


Wake Me Up When September Ends

by 305unreal, scaryfangirl2001



Series: Tomato Surprise Whomps [1]
Category: Recess (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartering System, Bullying, Canon Rewrite, Drugs, F/F, F/M, First Dates, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jocks Are Evil, M/M, Mild Language, Sexuality, Teacher-Student Relationship, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23644963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/305unreal/pseuds/305unreal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaryfangirl2001/pseuds/scaryfangirl2001
Summary: TJ and the gang are starting freshman year with tomato surprise and a suspension. Things'll only go downhill from there...
Relationships: Ashley Armbruster/Ashley Spinelli, Ashley Armbruster/Menlo, Menlo & Randall Weems, Muriel Finster/Randall Weems, T. J. Detweiler/Ashley Spinelli
Series: Tomato Surprise Whomps [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702255
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	Wake Me Up When September Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Set from Sep 5th – Sep 22nd  
> Goes along with episodes 1-7 ["The Break-In" - "First Name Ashley"]

_Tomato Surprise. Don’t we ever get anything we can eat that won’t dissolve our insides?_ TJ sighs, accepting the bowl. _How can they feed us this trash?_

His best friend Spinelli is in the line behind him, beanie hat sticking out from her back pocket. Her mouth is set in a frown as she accepts the bowl. There’s not much turning back when it comes to cafeteria food. Their friend Gretchen is directly behind them.

“My gut’s gonna be on fire for a week,” Spinelli grunts. “This stuff’s like acid.”

“Citric acid,” Gretchen corrects her as they walk over to join their friends Vince and Mikey.

They’ve also got Tomato Surprise, unlike the few students who were smart enough to brown bag it today. She carries on her thoughts of the coup in an overeducated manner. TJ raises an eyebrow and stares at the gunk. _No one. In this entire cafeteria. Is eating this slop._

“You mean it’s okay to eat?”

“No, I mean if you let it age, it’ll burn a hole in a concrete floor.”

Mikey pours his soup into Vince’s bowl and pulls out a winger dinger from his backpack. He got it from the vending machine before school for this circumstance. He hands one out to each member of their group. The gang is eating their candy in silence when TJ slams his hand on the table.

“This is stupid. Yesterday it was cardboard fish sticks, and the day before that, it was mac and cheese with paste. When lunch is over, I’m sticking around. I’m going to find the food they give the teachers.”

“Teej, you’re crazy,” Vince shakes his head. “You could lose a lot.”

The red-hatted boy shrugs. “I’m hanging out in the bathroom until five after. If you want to join me, do. If not, I respect your decision.”

When the warning bell rings, TJ slips out from the crowd. He goes to the bathroom and locks the first three stalls. He crawls under one and stands on the toilet. When the next bell rings, the door opens, and an inspector walks in to make sure no students without hall passes are inside. He tries to knock in the first two doors and grumbles over his walkie.

“Damn it, Hank, the doors are busted again.”

Five minutes pass and TJ steps out of the restroom. Arriving back in the now vacant cafeteria, he finds Spinelli and Mikey.

“Hey, guys.”

“Gretchen’s coming,” Spinelli informs him without looking up from her phone. “She’s getting a hall pass.”

Once Gretchen meets up with the group, Vince is nowhere in sight. TJ didn’t expect him to show anyway. The quartet slips behind the lunch bar and hunkers down against the wall, so the security camera won’t pick them up. There aren’t many cameras in the school, but they’re aware of the one in the cafeteria. The freshmen sneak to the back, where they uncover several lined refrigerators. Before they’re able to truly seize the contents, however, they’re interrupted by a familiar woman clearing her throat.

When TJ arrives at school the next morning, he reports directly to In-School Suspension. The boy is surprised to learn he can wear his hat as opposed to normal classes, but it’s the only perk. After the third hour, he’s counted the ceiling tiles thirteen times.

**|To: Teej**

**|From: Vince**

_How you holding up?_

**|To: Vince**

**|From: TJ**

_Y’know. Keeping busy_

_One thing I’d like you guys to do?_

**|To: Teej**

**|From: Vince**

_Yeah?_

**|To: Vince**

**|From: TJ**

_GET ME OUT OF HERE!_

Vince shows the text to Spinelli, who’s sitting beside him. She shakes her head and opens a group chat, keying in Gretchen and Mikey.

**Spin:** We’re with you, man

 **Winger_Dinger:** We’re all in this together

 **Invince:** Unless Finster catches us

 **Teej:** Thanks guys

Spinelli then adds another group chat, one without TJ.

 **Spin:** I say we break him out

 **Gretch:** I concur, Spinelli. However, based on my calculations, any attempt of rescue has a seventy percent chance of failure.

 **Winger_Dinger:** Why not ask Guru Kid?

The Guru Kid is barely passing any of his classes since he’s so bored in school. He’s usually in a stairwell, a bathroom, or the roof. He blazes it up, but he often has sage advice for his classmates – if they’re willing to puff and pass with him.

**Gretch:** Not it

 **Spin:** Not it

 **Invince:** Not it

 **Winger_Dinger:** Okay. Where is he?

 **Gretch:** If my sources are correct, he should be in the bathroom down the science hall

 **Spin:** I think her phone was taken. Go, Mikey

Ten minutes later, Mikey has a hall pass. He crosses his fingers when he walks into the aforementioned bathroom and knocks on the handicapped stall. Smoke is emanating from beneath, and Mikey sighs.

“Oh, Great Guru Kid. My friend is unfairly locked in-school suspension, and I know not what to do.”

In response, the door unlatches, and Mikey is welcomed inside. Guru Kid sits on a yoga mat atop the toilet. He puffs and passes his blunt to Mikey. The blond takes the drug and puffs once. He stills himself so as not to cough, and Guru Kid nods. He takes the blunt away.

“Consider the bumblebee. Alone, he is worth nothing. But, with his fellow bees, he becomes a swarm, and enjoys bountiful quantities of honey.”

Mikey bows his head. “Thank you for your wisdom, Guru Kid.”

He leaves the stall and pulls out his phone. Guru Kid sighs and locks the door before puffing on the blunt again.

**Winger_Dinger:** He suggested we work together to bust him out

 **Gretch:** Might I suggest catching the moderator’s attention in a monetary fashion?

 **Spin:** English, Gretch

 **Invince:** Easy. We bribe them.

 **Spin:** Tender. How much cash you got?

 **Winger_Dinger:** Three dollars and candy bars

 **Invince:** $1.23

 **Gretch:** five dollars

 **Spin:** And I got $2.60

 **Gretch:** A grand total of $11.83. and candy bars. Think it’s enough?

 **Spin:** One way to find out

 **Vince:** Everyone, leave what you got in the cap of the drinking fountain by the Spanish hall.

When the class ends, Gretchen, Mikey, and Spinelli individually go to the same drinking fountain. There’s a loose top to it, and they drop their money inside. Vince is the last to arrive. When he collects the money while drinking from the fountain, he turns around and comes face-to-face with a trio of angry-looking kids. The two boys in back have their arms crossed, and eyes narrowed. The girl has a tattoo around her right eye and a pencil through her ponytail.

The girl holds out her hand for the cash, and Vince backs away. She looks at the boys behind her and holds out her hand again. Vince sighs and hands over the cash. The girl tosses the change at him as they walk away, and Vince groans. Despite himself, he gets on the floor and collects the coins.

**Invince:** Got ambushed

 **Spin:** By the Savages?

 **Gretch:** The people in that gang behave like kindergarteners!

 **Spin:** Any other great ideas?

 **Invince:** I still have 83 cents. King Bob, anyone?

King Bob is captain of the hockey and football teams. He rules the school by way of sports and spirit. He was sophomore class president, and freshman the year before that. He’ll no doubt run again this year.

**Spin:** How’s he gonna get Teej out of ISS?

 **Gretch:** Perhaps he can grease a few elbows? It’s worth a shot.

 **Vince:** I’ll text him

**|To: King Bob**

**|From: Vince**

_King Bob, I need to ask a royal favor._

**|To: Vince**

**|From: KB**

_What’s the deal?_

**|To: King Bob**

**|From: Vince**

_My best friend has ISS, and we’re trying to break him out_

**|To: Vince**

**|From: KB**

_Bribe the Lemon. Pull the fire alarm. Don’t care. I’m not wasting my time for some dumb kid._

**Invince:** Well, that was a flop.

The next bell rings, and the teenagers try to think of something else they can do on their way to class. Vince decides to drop by the ISS room, where it appears TJ is slumped over his desk. However, Vince has suspicions and pulls out his phone.

**|To: Teej**

**|From: Vince**

_Wake up, Teej!_

**|To: Vince**

**|From: TJ**

_I am awake_

Vince frowns and presses the ‘call’ button.

“TJ, I’m at the ISS room with your stuff.”

“What? I’m on my way to class. What’re you doing in there?”

“That’s my question as well,” Ms. Finster’s voice interrupts their conversation. “Although, there’s only one class left. Detweiler, go back to ISS, and tell your friends to get back to class.”

The teenagers are forced to separate again, and the final hour of the day surprisingly passes by quick. The teenagers bike home. The next day, during break, TJ and the gang head out to the old courtyard. It’s not a courtyard in the literal sense of the word, but rather it’s the old JROTC base. It’s basically a sort of playground for teenagers. The most noticeable attraction is a large climbing wall made from metal and wood that has been nicknamed Old Rusty. Climbing on the contraption relieves the stress from the school day.

The base hasn’t functioned as one in many years, used instead as more of a community playground. Mikey and Vince get into a race on opposite ends, while Spinelli quickly climbs like a monkey. The freshmen play on it, feeling like single-digit kids again: carefree, worry-free, and responsibility-free. Unfortunately, TJ gets a bad feeling when he notices Principal Prickly standing on the corner, talking with a couple of city workers. He whistles to alert the others and walks over to investigate.

“What brings you to the old courtyard, Sir?”

The man nods to the other two, who cordon off the area with yellow tape, before he faces the red-hatted teenager.

“The school board has finally released some overdue funds. You kids are getting a brand-new courtyard.” The kids’ excitement is short-lived when Prickly continues. “Soon as we tear down this hunk of junk.”

The principal walks away, and the gang breaks down. A few other kids stick by Old Rusty, but the majority shrug it off. Mikey walks over, touching the rusty poles.

“Why does something bad always have to happen for something good?”

Vince walks over to a balance board. “Remember back in sixth grade? When Frankie was part of our group, and she swallowed her loose tooth?”

Mikey nods sadly. “Now she only cares about aviation.”

Gretchen walks under the rings. “Right here’s where Binky Jones fell off and broke his collarbone.”

“It’s a community place, not just for high school,” Spinelli sighs. “You can’t replace memories like that.”

“Might I suggest one thing we can try?” Gretchen pipes up and waits for all eyes to fall on her. “A petition.”

The kids agree, and they slip out of the courtyard and into the library. With only ten minutes left of their break, Gretchen types up and prints out a petition, describing what Old Rusty means to them. The five of them sign their names on the five copies of the petition. Gretchen, Spinelli, Mikey, and Vince separate to their next classes, asking for signatures from their classmates. TJ climbs to the top of Old Rusty and sits there in peaceful protest.

“Good afternoon, Muriel.” Randall is the first one in the classroom.

“Randall,” She speaks his name like a warning. “It’s _Ms. Finster_ when we’re in school.”

“Hmm…” He shrugs loftily. “What’re you going to do about it? Punish me?”

The woman flushes for two reasons, and Randall knows it. As more students file in, Randall lingers at her desk. When class finale starts, she goes through roll call. She gets to Detweiler and glowers.

“I saw TJ earlier. Where is he?”

Randall is toying with his pencil when he apathetically answers her. “Probably up on Old Rusty still.”

He misses his favorite teacher quirk an eyebrow. When she leaves the classroom, Phoebe turns to face him.

“Why not let him try and save that old thing?”

Randall shrugs without looking away from the pencil. “I signed the petition, and now he’s got M-Finster’s attention.” When she doesn’t respond, he looks up, and his eyes are drawn to her stiffened pigtails. “How does your hair do that?”

Meanwhile, outside, Ms. Finster’s confrontation has warranted the attention of several classes. Some students – starting with Mikey and Spinelli – leave their classrooms to join him atop Old Rusty. Ms. Finster threatens them with expulsion, but the teenagers are resilient. Despite some kids only there to be rebellious, TJ and the gang appreciate the support. When the kids have yet to leave by six o’clock, parents are called.

Frankie’s dad, Randy, instantly recognizes the base. “Isn’t that the playground I used to play on? I fell off and got a plate in my head.”

His wife sighs beside him. “I remember when I was a kid, hula hooping on the balance beam.”

Phoebe Hennessey’s mom is president of the PTA and on the school board. When she sees her daughter, she feels a sense of pride and joins her. “Digger” Dave Riley’s dad, Jack, is the superintendent’s brother-in-law. All the parents and guardians who grew up in town remember Old Rusty. Even if they didn’t go to Third Street High, they remember it as an integral piece of the community. Rather than rally alongside Ms. Finster and Principal Prickly, they join the students in protesting against tearing it down. Some faculty members – with Miss Grotke leading – also join the movement.

The following day, in second-period earth science, Mikey is upset. It’s been three days, and his little plant still won’t grow. Classmates Spinelli and Vince have leaves beginning to sprout.

“You guys are so much better at this than me,”

“Hey, Lugnut,” Spinelli turns to face him. “Did you remember the seed this time?”

The tall blonde facepalms. He’s working with them due to the uneven amount of kids in the class, but he still forgets the basic elements.

_We need to get him a new set of partners_ Spinelli thinks, handing him a seed. _Maybe Gretch can switch over here._

While Spinelli is lost in her thoughts, the teacher answers a knock at the door. A short teenager in Army garb and a buzz cut salutes her.

“Miss Grotke. Son of Lieutenant Griswald, USMC. I’ve been deployed.”

“Deployed?” She raises an eyebrow in slight alarm.

“Yes, ma’am. My name is Private Gustav, and I’ve been assigned to your barracks.”

She blinks. “Oh. Welcome to our classroom family, Gustav. You can be Mikey’s partner.”

The boy nods and follows her to the back, where Mikey is restarting his plant assignment. The new kid grabs a cup, seed, soil, and watering can without a word.

“So, your name is Gustav, huh?” Mikey asks, trying to make conversation.

“Yep.”

“My name’s Michael. But you can call me Mikey.”

He nods. “Informal school. You can call me Gus.”

“Cool… so, tell me about yourself, Gus.”

He sighs and then speaks monotonously. “I’ve been to twenty schools in the past ten years, and I have a pet snake named Herbert.”

Mikey stays silent before realizing that’s all his partner is going to say. “Well, after class, I can show you where the best vending machine is. When you hit the winger dinger button, it gives you two instead of one!”

He shrugs. “I don’t eat much candy.”

“Then I’ll show you where the Savages hang out. You wouldn’t want to go near them.”

“School gang?” He raises an eyebrow, and Mikey nods worriedly. “Alright.”

They work together in silence. When the bell rings, Spinelli and Vince walk over and introduce themselves.

“C’mon, I’m starving,” Spinelli complains. “Let’s go meet Teej and Gretch for lunch.”

Mikey starts but notices Gus is still standing by the plants. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I don’t think the invitation was extended for”

“C’mon, Marine boy.”

“Army,” He corrects her but walks over anyway.

Gus meets TJ and Gretchen in the cafeteria where things haven’t changed from yesterday. Today’s menu is cardboard pizza; the kids poke at it, but their attention is mostly on the new kid at school. They slowly get to know each other, and it makes Gus hiccup from emotion.

“Are you okay, Gus?” Mikey asks worriedly.

“Yeah,” He sighs. “It’s just… people aren’t usually so nice to me.”

“Well, you’re part of our group now.” Spinelli places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got friends here.”

She eyes TJ as she says it, and Gus ducks slightly. She ducks with him, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you and TJ together?”

Spinelli blushes instantly. “No, now, c’mon. We got history class.”

**|To: Teej**

**|From: Spin**

_Gus asked if we’re together_

Spinelli pulls out her phone ten minutes into class. TJ’s phone vibrates in his math class.

**|To: Spin**

**|From: Teej**

_I’m ok w it_

Spinelli frowns. She had expected him to offer some sort of encouragement, not make it sound like something for her to sacrifice. _Doesn’t he know my point of view in all this?_

**|To: Teej**

**|From: Spin**

_Tmrw before school?_

TJ’s breath hitches. _I didn’t expect her to call my bluff. I thought this was one of those big feminist things._

**|To: Spin**

**|From: Teej**

_Deal_

The ordeal to come remains on their minds for the rest of the day. TJ distracts himself by playing catch against the side of the garage in his backyard. Spinelli, on the other hand, trashes her room. Her parents have recognized this as a sign that she’s anxious. She trashes her room, listens to music, and calms herself down. No one is injured in the process.

The following morning, the teenagers dress a little nicer. TJ forgoes his regular smoky jacket for a blue blazer. He doesn’t grab his cap either. Spinelli wears her hair differently and opens her regular jacket like a dress.

**Spin:** Guys come to the back lot asap

 **Gretch:** Are you alright?

 **Spin:** Teej and I need to tell you something

Vince, Gretchen, Mikey, and Gus drop what they’re doing and head over. Seeing this, Randall is suspicious. He points the retreating teens out to the Savages. When they follow the Gang, the Diggers notice, as well as a few other kids. They follow out of curiosity.

“What’s going on, guys?” Mikey hurries over.

“And what are you wearing?” Vince tacks on.

Spinelli takes in a breath and takes her friend’s hand. “TJ and I are a couple.”

He looks nervous, but she’s more nervous, and he senses this. Their friends – aside from Gus – appear to be shocked. TJ turns to his girlfriend and gives her a soft peck on the lips, causing her to blush with a smile.

“Well, I think you make a cute couple.” Mikey is the first to speak.

“How long have the two of you been together?”

“Since this summer,” TJ replies, rubbing the back of his neck.

As the moment dwindles down, the other schoolmates carry back to what they were already doing; Randall feeling cheated. On the morning of the eleventh, Gus awakes with a somber feeling in his stomach. The house is silent as he collects his outfit for the day and goes to the bathroom. He passes his dad, and they nod in acknowledgment. He showers, dresses, and joins his mom for breakfast in silence. The three bid each other goodbye with a kiss and a wave, and Gus walks to school rather than taking the bus.

At school, he joins his newfound friend group with a wave. He doesn’t say anything, and they don’t force him. In first class, Gus steals a classmate’s notebook (thinking it was a free-for-grabs book in the room). When the junior, Marcus, catches him, Gus unintentionally stands up to him by signing an apology that the older kid misinterprets.

“Mr. Yamashiro!” The kid calls out. “I’m grabbing my homework from my car!”

“That’s fine.” He responds without looking up from the homework he’s grading.

Marcus roughly grabs Gus’s arm and drags him out the door. Gus decides not to protest and walks along with a worrisome expression written across his face. They soon arrive in the school’s weight room, where figurative crown prince, King Bob, is working out with some of his teammates. Marcus and Bob share a meaningful look, and Bob stands.

“Anyone not on my team, scram.”

The two students frown but put away the weights and leave the room. One of the teammates locks the door, and Bob walks up.

“What’d the shrimp do?”

“Kid stole my homework and played it off.”

Gus shakes his head, trying to sign that he couldn’t speak today, trying to apologize again. Bob only glares at him.

“I saw you in the cafeteria yesterday. I order you to talk.”

Gus lets out an inaudible sigh of resignation, but the older boys view it as contempt. Bob looks over at his closest friends – Jordan and Jerome – who instantly each take an arm and pin Gus to the nearest wall. Bob looks over at the other two boys who follow him around like bodyguards. Bob leers over the blond.

“You haven’t been here long, kid. But when I give orders, people follow them.”

He punches Gus hard in the stomach. He snaps his fingers, allowing the bodyguards to whale on the younger kid for his insubordination. Gus doesn’t break; doesn’t say a word.

“Hold it. Let’s take this to the dumpsters. Marcus.”

Bob leads the way to the back of the school, where it’s assured that there are no cameras. A sophomore, Butch, is leaning against one of the bins smoking a cigarette when the group arrives. Bob glares, but the kid holds his hands in surrender. He snuffs the cigarette and walks away. Gus is thrown against the side of the dumpster where he’s once again pinned.

“Last chance, new kid. Talk.”

Gus remains silent, and his eyes fall downcast. Bob backhands him and allows the boys to throw in a few good punches. When Ms. Finster rounds the corner with some broken cardboard in hand, Marcus warns them.

“Throw him in the trash,” Bob hisses.

Jordan and Jerome let go, and the bodyguards lift Gus into the dumpster. The five boys then walk away like they’ve done nothing wrong. When the teacher reaches the dumpster, she notices the boys in the distance but doesn’t pay much attention. When she tosses the trash, she narrowly misses Gus and pulls him upright by the front of his shirt.

“Is this why you aren’t in class, Boy? Starting fights with those other miscreants?”

Gus blinks up at her through his heavy lids. There’s a scar forming on his cheek from where Bob’s ring smarted him. His clothes are disheveled, and he’s bleeding. Ms. Finster doesn’t mind this, however, and Gus doesn’t bother with sign language. She takes him to see the principal, and the word spreads through the school via Butch’s mass text. Gus tries sign language again, sighing when it falls on deaf ears.

“The front office has called your parents, boy. And we are appalled. Why is it that no one has answered?”

Gus stands and walks out of the office. Fuming, Prickly calls after him, but Gus only walks to the calendar hanging on the wall. He yanks it off and hands it to the principal.

“What? The date? It’s the eleventh. What does that have to do with anything?”

Gus mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key. He again taps at the calendar.

Prickly narrows his eyes. “You won’t talk because it’s the eleventh of the month? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard of.”

Gus’s features turn angry at his words. He taps the calendar more incessantly, at the date and the month.

“I know it’s September, Griswald.” His angry outlook suddenly dissipates as the words come out. “You’re not speaking. Because… it’s September eleventh?”

Gus nods, relief flooding throughout his body now that someone has it right.

“That’s very… patriotic of you, Boy.”

Menlo, a freshman student working files in the main office, overhears the entire conversation. He copies all the email addresses of all the teachers and students on file and tells them about the boy from Butch’s mass text. That he’s not talking in honor of September eleventh. That Prickly called him a patriot.

“Did you see this?” Bob shows Marcus the email on his phone.

“Damn,” He sighs. “Kid’s got spunk.”

“What do you say we put him on the team?”

“Doesn’t seem like a football guy.”

Bob nods and taps his texting app.

**|To: Lackeys**

**|From: Bob**

_We’re putting Patriot Boy on as our replacement goalie. Any objections?_

**|To: King Bob**

**|From: Jordan**

_Not a one_

**|To: King Bob**

**|From: Jerome**

_I’ll tell Coach_

King Bob nods as though they can see, and he looks back at his email. He copies Menlo’s address and messages him.

  * **From:**[ **kingbob08@thirdstreet.edu**](mailto:kingbob08@thirdstreet.edu)
  * **To:**[ **lemonaide@thirdstreet.edu**](mailto:lemonaide@thirdstreet.edu)
  * **Subject:** Patriot Boy 
    * I hereby proclaim Patriot Boy will become our hockey team’s new replacement goalie. Add him to our roster, Office Lackey.



Menlo sighs upon reading the email, but he shrugs it off and adds Gus to the team.

Two days later, Third Street’s JROTC group holds an assembly to remind the school that they exist and need more people to join. Gus automatically joined when he transferred schools, so he’s on the stage and is the only reason his friends are paying much attention. Cadet lieutenant colonel Bradley Dretzin is the senior who leads the group and is spending the most amount of time speaking onstage. There are only two female cadets – Francesca and Phoebe – who also remain silent.

During lunch and after the assembly, Mikey is stuck in a daydream land. He sidesteps the line and sits at their regular table without any food in hand. This worries the gang, and TJ finally vocalizes the concern.

“It’s just… all I can think about it the ROTC. I wanna wear one of those uniforms.”

Vince raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Why?”

_Because then I’d have a role here. I wouldn’t just be Mikey the Doormat._ “It’s my dream, guys. To protect and serve. And be respected.” His smile dims. “But… they’d never take me.”

“Why not?” Gus asks. “You heard Bradley. We’re looking for more cadets. And you fit the bill. You’re honest, loyal, and hardworking. Some of the top traits needed.”

Mikey stands up and nods with a renewed smile on his face. “Alright, I’ll do it. Gus, would you come with?”

Gus agrees, and the boys seek out Colonel Bradley. The reception is less than deserved. Bradley laughs in their faces. He makes some crude fat jokes, angering Gus and upsetting Mikey in the process. Unfortunately, Gus is unable to do anything about it. According to the manual, Bradley has the ultimate control of saying who’s in and who’s out when the faculty leader isn’t present. When Mikey walks away depressed, Gus makes a stop at his locker and returns to the group with his copy of the manual.

“Bradley laughed in his face,” He announces, waving the book. “We need to go over this book and find a loophole.”

After spending the next twenty minutes passing the book around, Gretchen finds a promising paragraph, and she shares it with the group.

“According to Rule #76, subsection J, the colonel gets to pick who’s in, and who’s out. But! According to amendment K, the colonel may be overruled if the potential recruit is personally sponsored by at least two of the cadets.”

Gus grins. “Well, I’m one, but who’s the other?”

TJ looks over at a group of upperclassmen JROTC cadets sitting at a lunch table. One of the senior cadets trips a junior; he and his friend fall to the ground, and their food is slammed.

“Not to worry, Gus. I think we’ve got this.”

Spinelli grins. Gus, Vince, and TJ run after the boys who retreat to a bathroom to wash up. Gretchen and Spinelli head to the lunch line for ice cream. Minutes later, the Gang and the two boys are sitting under a stairwell, the latter two enjoying the free ice cream. When TJ gradually brings up how Mikey wants to join JROTC, the juniors nearly drop their spoons.

“You’re kidding, right?” The shorter one, Cal, frowns. “Colonel Brad _hates_ when underclassmen are in the club. He only tolerates Griswald because of his dad.”

“C’mon, you two,” Spinelli sighs. “It’s his dream.”

Cal nods. “Alright, then. You give us _our_ dream, and we’ll get Blumberg in the club.”

“Deal,” TJ shakes his hand then hesitates. “Uh, so, what _is_ your dream?”

“Sing the national anthem over the school PA.”

“At the flag-raising ceremony,” The taller boy, Ronnie, cuts in. “Which is in five days, by the way.”

After school, the kids separate to go home. TJ, however, lags to instigate Cal and Ronnie’s shared dream. He heads to the main office and is relieved to find Menlo still packing up.

“Hey, Menlo.”

“Detweiler,” He nods without breaking away from the files. “I take it you need a favor?”

“What, I need a favor to talk to you?”

The bespectacled boy stares at him unimpressively, and TJ rubs the back of his neck.

“Okay, so it is a favor. You help Miss Lemon with the weekly flag-raising ceremony, right?”

Menlo sighs. “I have since the first week of school.”

TJ nods. “And as her helper,”

“I’m not her _helper_. I’m her _aide_.”

TJ frowns but continues. “Okay, well as her _aide_ , you get to select the kids who come up and talk over the PA system, right?”

“Naturally,” He responds then looks down at TJ’s feet. TJ notices he’s stepped over the yellow line, and he sighs as he steps back. “I’m not giving you the reins.”

“Not me,” TJ shakes his head. “Cal and Ronnie.”

Menlo glares at him, fingers tightening around the files in his hands. “Have you lost your mind!? I’m doing this by alphabetical order. And alphabetical order only.”

“Menlo…” TJ lowers his head. “If you agree to this, I’ll do something for you.”

The boy looks around the office and leans forward. “Get me a date with Ashley A.”

TJ sighs. _Of course, he’d pick something crazy like this._ “Deal.” They shake on it.

Thursday morning, TJ arrives to school roughly an hour early. Ashley A always arrives before the other Ashleys as she states that it sets the standards.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

“I need a favor.”

“Of course, you do.” She sighs; not having her entourage makes her crave anyone’s attention. “And what is this favor?”

“I need you to go on a date with Menlo.”

“Who?”

“The kid who works in the office. Glasses, necktie?”

“Ew, the filing boy? Why?”

“If I get him the date, Cal and Ronnie sing the national anthem, and Mikey gets to join JROTC.”

“Don’t care. I mean, what’s in it for me?”

“What do you want?”

Ashley’s eyes widen suddenly. “My sister Brittany stole my diary. She could blackmail me for life.”

“Why can’t you get it back from her?”

“She lives with our mother, not important. Get my diary back, and I’ll go on a date with the office geek.”

“Deal. Where’s your sister?”

“Third Street Elementary. She’s in fifth grade.”

_Elementary school?_ TJ glares at her, looking between his watch and the street. _The elementary school’s a good two blocks from here. If I hurry, maybe I won’t be late._ He pulls his bike from where he parked it on the rack and rides it down to the elementary school. It takes him a little over half an hour to arrive after taking a few shortcuts. He runs into the main office and needs to stop and catch his breath.

“Can we help you?” One of the ladies asks.

“Yeah. I need to talk with one of your students. She stole something, and I need it back.”

The woman merely sighs rather than looks surprised. “Name, please.”

“Brittany Armbruster.”

She shakes her head in disappointment. “I recognize that name.”

The woman calls the girl’s name over the PA system. A girl wearing makeup and a green dress walks in minutes later. She’s frowning and still wearing her backpack.

“Like, how am I in trouble? School hasn’t, like, started yet.”

“This young man needs to talk to you.”

“Yeah? Like, for what?” She pops a bubble with her gum, turning around to face TJ.

“You stole your sister’s diary. I’m here to get it back.”

“Like, make me.”

He groans, loudly. “What do you want? Candy? Money?”

She shakes her head. “Let me and the other Brittanys sit on the bench at tomorrow’s hockey game.”

His eyes widen. “Ugh, deal.”

When TJ arrives back at school, he’s ten minutes late, and he searches for Bob in the weight room. He finds him.

“Bob, I need a favor.”

“That’s rich.”

“Please, I need you to let four elementary school girls sit on the bench at tomorrow’s game.”

Bob raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Please, Bob? I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Boys, leave us.”

The others in the weight room leave, and TJ looks up at the older boy hesitantly. _I hope I didn’t just sign my death warrant._ Bob hands him a slip of paper.

“Look, there _is_ something I want. But no one is to know.”

“Yes, Sir.” TJ inwardly cringes at calling him ‘sir’.

“I want…” He breaks off and whispers in his ear. “… a dog.”

TJ blinks in surprise. “That’s your dream?”

Bob nods. “Dogs love you for you. Just… get me a dog and bring it to this address before six. That’s when the folks get home, and they can’t know about this.”

TJ nods. “You can count on me.”

At lunch, TJ meets up with the gang. Spinelli gets the ball rolling.

“So, did you get Cal and Ronnie’s names on the board?”

“… maybe.” He admits.

“Explain.”

TJ sighs. “After school today, I need to buy a dog.”

“A dog?” Vince asks. “For what?”

“Quiet, Vince. It’s a secret. I need to buy a dog for a certain someone. They’ll let the Brittanys sit on the bench at tomorrow’s game. Brittany A will give me her sister’s diary. Ashley A will go on a date with Menlo, and Menlo will add Cal and Ronnie’s names to the board to sing at the flag raising.”

The gang stares back in shock. Gus pipes up at last.

“And you can do all that by Monday?”

“Absolutely. Gretch, what are the quietest dog breeds?”

“Let’s see, there’s the Burmese mountain dog, French and English bulldogs, the basenji, the wheaten terrier, and – my personal favorite – the Shiba inu.”

“Tender.”

After school, TJ sneaks home to break open his piggy bank. He has $215 saved up for concert tickets. Not knowing how much a dog will cost, he stuffs the money into his pocket and leaves through the window. He looks at the address on the paper and bikes toward a pet shop in that direction.

“Well, hello, there son. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I need a dog that doesn’t bark much.” He hands the man the list that Gretchen voiced. “Do you have any of these?”

The man takes the list and skims over the breeds. “I do believe we have a basenji in the back. He’s only a year old. Is that fine with you?”

“Yes, Sir. My friend’ll love him.”

“Oh, he’s a gift, is he?”

“Yes, Sir.”

An hour later, TJ has a wagon tied to the back of his bike carrying a cage, food, collar, leash, bed, and a few toys. The dog sits in a bucket-like basket TJ affixes on the front of his bike. He checks his watch, 5:15, and hurries down to the given address. When he arrives, he pulls the bicycle to the back of the house and knocks on the door.

“Yes, what is” Bob stops short, staring at the cute brown dog in the hatted boy’s arms. “You really got me a dog?”

“Well, yes.”

Bob laughs. “What kind of dog is he?”

“A basenji. I have the cage, bed, and other stuff on the wagon.”

“Very well. Grab the wagon and follow me to my room.”

TJ does as he’s asked, after handing the pup to the older teenager. They carefully hide the dog’s belongings in the closet and under the bed. The basenji licks the captain’s face, and his tough exterior melts. He sets the dog on the bed and opens the top drawer of his dresser.

“I was going to give these passes to HK to sell. They’re VIPs, and they give you access to the back area and let you sit on the bench with the players.”

“Thanks, Bob.”

“No sweat, Kid.”

Friday morning, TJ heads out to Third Street Elementary and waits on the sidewalk. The Armbruster limo drives up, letting Brittany out. She notices his and walks over.

“What are you, like, doing here?”

He dangles the VIP passes. “Straight from Captain Bob.” When she reaches out, he pulls back. “Passes for the diary.”

She rolls her eyes but digs in her backpack. She snatches the passes, and TJ collects the book. TJ nods and hops on his bike with the book in the bucket. He arrives to school with seven minutes to spare. The boy races to his first class, which he shares with Ashleys A and B. When the former sees him, she lets out an annoyed grunt.

“Go inside, Ashley B. I need to collect my homework.”

Ashley B rolls her eyes and walks inside. Ashley A stalks over to TJ and shoves him beside the lockers.

“Did you get it?”

“Yes.” He holds out a tape recorder. “I need you to say on record that you’ll go on a date with Menlo tomorrow.”

She rolls her eyes but agrees when he presses record. “I, Ashley A, agree to, like, go on a date with the dorky office boy Menlo, like, tomorrow, Saturday the sixteenth.”

“Great. I’ll let him know.”

“Whatever.”

TJ pockets the recorder and hands her the book. They walk into the classroom as the bell rings. At lunch, TJ forgoes the cafeteria and waits in the front office. Menlo walks in with a brown paper bag.

“Hello, Detweiler. Did you come for another favor in exchange for an equally as unobtain”

TJ cuts him off by playing Ashley A’s confession. The boy’s eyes widen and he uncharacteristically hugs the other.

“Thank you, Det-TJ. How were you able to convince her?”

“I got her diary back from her sister.”

“Right… well, I’ll add Cal and Ronnie’s names now. Do you know their last names or clubs they’re affiliated with?”

“JROTC.”

“Ahh, okay. Calvin Shenk and Ronald Row. They’re on the list.”

“Thanks, Menlo.”

That night, the Ashleys skate on the ice at the hockey game, though Ashley A’s mind keeps thinking about the inevitable date.

Saturday morning, around ten, Menlo gets online.

  * **From:**[ **lemonaide@thirdstreet.edu**](mailto:lemonaide@thirdstreet.edu)
  * **To:**[ **scandalousashleya@thirdstreet.edu**](mailto:scandalousashleya@thirdstreet.edu)
  * **Subject:** Date 
    * Where shall we go?



  * **RE: Date**
    * You’re the guy, Pointdexter. Pick the place and pick me up



  * **RE: Date**
    * Perhaps the museum?



  * **RE: Date**
    * Pick again



  * **RE: Date**
    * Trivia night? Hiking? A book reading?



  * **RE: Date**
    * Get a life. I’m not going to any of those places.



  * **RE: Date**
    * Karaoke?



  * **RE: Date**
    * You obviously aren’t going to pick anywhere good. Look, we’ll go skating.



Menlo winces.

  * **RE: Date**
    * I’m not very coordinated. I’ll likely fall.



  * **RE: Date**
    * Then, we’ll go bowling. Do you have a way to pick me up?



  * **RE: Date**
    * My mom has a station wagon.



  * **RE: Date**
    * We’ll meet at the bowling alley. 3:00. Don’t be late.



Menlo sighs dreamily as he moves away from his computer. _I’ve got a date!_ He turns on some nineties pop music and starts dancing around his room to search for bowling clothes. He’s at a loss within ten minutes and calls out for his mom.

“Taylor, Taylor, what is it?” She runs over. “Are you hurt?”

“No, Mom. I… I don’t know what to wear to go bowling.”

She purses her lips and shakes her head. “Is that all? Are you going bowling with that nice little girl from the library?”

“No, I barely know Josephine. I’m going on a date with Ashley Armbruster!”

Her eyes widen. “Linda Armbruster’s daughter? Is she also a feminist?”

Menlo shrugs. “I don’t know, Mom. But we’re going bowling at three, and I need to get dressed and bike over.”

“Oh, honey. I’ll give you a ride. Let’s go see about the outfit.”

At two o’clock, Menlo is rocking a short-sleeved baby blue and bubblegum pink tie-dye t-shirt and a comfortable pair of capris. He grabs a black jacket in case it gets cold inside, and his mom drives him to the bowling alley. Ashley A arrives at two-thirty, finding the reservation under Menlo’s name.

“What are you wearing, Loser?”

Menlo winces lightly. “My mom helped me find the proper attire.”

“As if.” She scoffs.

Ashley A is wearing a hot pink t-shirt that reads ‘bad bitch’ and a pair of jeans.

“Why do you have a jacket? And, are those alley shoes?”

“In case it gets cold,” He retorts defensively. “And of course, they are. What other shoes should I wear?”

“Like, personalized bowling shoes, duh. Alley shoes are so disgusting. Where’s your ball?”

“I think I can roll the seven or eight.” He gestures to the shelves behind them.

She gags and produces her personalized bright pink bowling ball in its own stylized case. “I’m first!”

Menlo nods over her head for them to start the game. The lights turn on. She takes strategic aim and bowls. She manages a strike, and Menlo distractedly picks up an eleven-pound ball. It immediately drops, taking him with it. She grimaces at him and grabs a nail file while she waits for her ball to return. Menlo then grabs the seven-pound ball and carries it over. Ashley’s ball returns, and he makes to grab it, only for her to huff.

“Get your grubby hands away from my ball, Nerdlo.” She hands him a pair of pink poly disposable gloves. “Wear this first.”

“But you’re not wearing any.”

“Wear the damn gloves, office dork. I only agreed to this date to get my diary back.”

She grabs her ball and bowls. Six pins fall.

“If I was with someone who was worth something, I totally could have gotten another strike.”

She goes back to filing her nails, and Menlo grudgingly grabs his seven-pound ball. It’s difficult to grab it while wearing the gloves, so he carries it like a watermelon. He struggles to aim but rolls it underhanded. Behind him, Ashley A gasps.

“Like, oh my god, you rolled the ball like a pansy. I’m on a date with a fucking pansy boy.”

_Why did I want to go on a date with her? She’s worse than she is at school with her flunkies. She shot down all my ideas, and I’m not coordinated for this. She insulted my clothes, and I need to wear these gloves to touch the bowling ball and_

“Hey, four-eyed pantywaist!” Ashley cuts off his thoughts. “Get your ball, and try not to hit the gutter, huh?”

Twitching slightly, Menlo nods and grabs the ball from the retrieval. He lines himself up again and rolls underhanded once more. It almost instantly falls into the gutter, and Ashley sighs dramatically.

“Can you do anything, you worthless jellyfish? Why don’t you go and fetch me a soda and I’ll play the rest of the frames?”

Menlo shudders. “This was a fine date, Ashley. But I’m cutting it short.”

“Like, no one breaks a date with me. Not even a pale-faced chicken faggot like you.”

The insult is like a stab in his chest. It takes a lot out of him not to cry. He simply looks away from her and takes off his shoes. Forgetting his other shoes, he slams the bowling ones on the main desk and runs out the door. He runs to the bike rack, suddenly remembering his mom drove him. Tears start leaking, and he realizes he left his phone in his jacket on the chair in the alley. He darts into a suburban area and falls beneath a tree in a side yard, breaking down in fat, wet tears.

Elsewhere, Randall walks out of his shower with a faded white towel around his waist and sits down at an old, creaky table. The woman sitting across from him twitches, red pen in hand, as she struggles to grade her papers.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting,” He replies nonchalantly but with a smug grin across his face.

“Randall,” There’s a warning in her voice. “Put on some real clothes.”

He leans over the table just barely. “Make me, Muriel.”

Her pen snaps, and she rushes to clean the mess. Randall stands, towel one knot away from coming undone. Muriel groans, but Randall knows it’s mostly from disapproval. They agreed not to go any farther until sophomore year at the earliest.

“I’ll get dressed, and we can watch a movie.”

He heads to his room, leaving the door open for anyone who wants to see. Dropping the towel in the doorway, Randall digs through his clothes. He pulls out a gray gym shirt from last year and a pair of dark blue jogging shorts. On his way back, he picks up the towel, and he notices his classmate crying in the side yard.

_Why the hell is he crying, and why in my yard? Damn it all to hell._

The fourteen-year-old tosses the towel over the shower rod and joins Muriel in the kitchen. About to think up a way to phrase how it’d be best if she left early, he’s instead hanging his mouth open seeing her pack up.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m heading home, Randall. Consider it your punishment for being a tease.”

He bites his lip. “Can’t… can’t I have just a _little_ discipline first?”

Muriel bites her own lip but sighs and nods. He makes a twirling motion with her hand, and Randall turns around. He lowers his shorts down his right side and waits. Her hand smacks down, leaving a red mark, and Randall groans in pleasure. He turns around, and both their faces are tinted pink.

“Thank you, _Ms. Finster_.”

“Be a good boy, Randall.”

He watches as she leaves through the front door and gets into her car. Once she leaves, Randall steadies his breathing and walks out the back door. Not sure how to handle someone crying, even if said someone is his age, he tentatively walks over.

“Uh, Menlo?”

The brunette jumps as though someone hit him with a fire poker. “R-Randall? What are you doing out here?”

He cocks his head to the side. “I live here.”

Embarrassment floods through the other boy, and Randall takes pity on him. “C’mon inside.”

“W-Why?”

“Because you look like you could freshen up. And I was about to watch a movie.”

Menlo smiles shyly. “What movie?”

“ _Gremlins_.”

Menlo nods, and Randall helps pull him to his feet. He follows Randall through the back door in his house, and the latter first guides him to the bathroom.

“You want some more comfortable clothes?”

“I don’t want to trouble you.” He answers through the door.

“It’s not trouble if I ask.” _Muriel taught me that._ “Now, do you want more comfortable clothes? And do you want hot chocolate?”

“Yes to both, please.” He responds after a minute.

Randall returns to his room, grabbing another gym shirt and a pair of off-white sweatpants. He opens the bathroom door to drop off the clothes, not counting for Menlo to scream.

“What is it?”

“You didn’t knock!”

“It’s my house.”

Menlo blinks. “But… but I’m not wearing a shirt, and I could’ve not been wearing pants.”

“So?” He shakes his head, not getting it. “Look, I got you clothes. I’m going to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. I’ll meet you in there.”

He leaves without shutting the door, but Menlo does it for him. He’s aghast to learn there’s no lock on it. Sighing, he pulls on the shirt and gets dressed. Minutes pass, and Menlo’s greeted with two cups of the hot drink.

“I didn’t hear the microwave go off.”

“Don’t have one,” He shrugs. “Used the stove.”

Menlo sighs. They walk into the living room where there’s a flat-screen TV sitting on an old icebox. He can’t keep it in.

“You don’t have a microwave, but you have a flat-screen?”

“Flat screen’s stolen.”

Randall speaks so easily, Menlo’s unsure whether he’s joking. Two hours later, Menlo is leaning on Randall, and both boys are asleep with the _Gremlins_ credits rolling.

Come Monday morning, despite Cal and Ronnie having terrible singing voices, the boys proudly sing the national anthem at the weekly flag-raising. When the ceremony ends, Cal, Ronnie, and Gus announce their sponsorship – and Colonel Bradley begrudgingly brings Mikey in as a JROTC cadet.

**|To: Mikey**

**|From: Gus**

_Are you awake?_

**|To: Gus**

**|From: Mikey**

_Unfortunately. It’s four o’clock. Why so early?_

**|To: Mikey**

**|From: Gus**

_Don’t worry. It’ll lessen up by November. It’s like military time._

_And you don’t have time for breakfast._

**|To: Gus**

**|From: Mikey**

_I’m supposed to starve?_

**|To: Mikey**

**|From: Gus**

_Not to worry, big guy. I always bring backup._

**|To: Gus**

**|From: Mikey**

_Thanks, Gus. You’re a real friend._

Gus, Mikey, and the rest of the JROTC kids are the only teenagers on campus so early in the morning aside from Menlo. He’s used to it and prefers it over the hustle bustle of most public places. _Like bowling alleys…_

“Hey, Menlo.”

The boy twitches but stills himself not to jump. When he sees who it is, he lets a small smile come onto his face.

“Good morning, Randall.”

“I got you a new phone.”

The redhead hands him a nice-looking phone. Rather than take it gratefully – since he talked over the first part of the movie telling Randall the cliff notes of his bad date – he stares back suspiciously.

“Did you steal it?”

Randall’s easygoing features quickly shrivel into a nasty grimace. He throws the phone at Menlo’s chest.

“Screw you. Just because I’m poor doesn’t mean I can’t afford things!”

As Randall turns to leave, Menlo fumbles with the phone and calls after him. “Wait!”

The other boy stops and turns, arms crossed over his chest. Menlo stutters an apology.

“I, I’m sorry. You’re right. And you helped me. Thank you.”

Randall scrutinizes him but nods, arms relaxing at his side again. “Okay. You’re welcome. My personal cell number’s inside. It’s not the one on my file.”

Menlo smiles at the personal touch. “Thank you, Randall.”

The other boy nods and walks out. At lunch, Randall doesn’t have any money. He counted the money needed for lunch and supper for two weeks to buy Menlo the phone. He never knows when his dad’s going to show up, so he always keeps money on hand to make or buy something to eat. With no money to eat lunch, he walks around with a tape recorder to get goods for Ms. Finster. However, the Diggers back away, and the Ashleys call him a Loser.

_You’re the fucking losers. Wait till I find some serious dirt on you, Armbruster. You’re going down. Down six feet under…_ Lost in his thoughts, he’s unaware that he’s come across TJ and the gang. When Spinelli catches him, she grabs his wrist and pulls him over.

“Look at this. I found a snitch. Wired for sound.”

She snatches the recorder, throws it on the ground, and stomps on it. Randall can only watch in shock. She shoves him away from the group, and none of them do anything to stop her. Before he can retaliate, however, his phone chirps. His personal cell.

**|To: Randall**

**|From: Muriel**

_Professional meeting_

Randall gulps. After the mess that was Saturday, he’s terrified of the summons. As he walks down the hall to Ms. Finster’s classroom, part of him wants to go tell Menlo. _But if he knew you had a whatever-this-is with the teacher, you’d lose the closest thing you have to a friend._ He steels himself and walks into her classroom, shutting the door.

“What do you have for me today, Randall?”

He winces at the tone of her voice. “Uh, Hector Veckle made himself throw up to get out of a test. And… I saw Shirley Benson throw an egg on Principal Prickly’s car.”

She glares at him with contempt. “That’s it?” He shrugs, and her eyes narrow. “I expected more from you, Randall. Perhaps you’ve lost your touch.”

Randall gasps in horror, shaking his head. “No, Ms. Finster!” _I need to find dirt on someone! Anything! I can’t be dead weight!_ “I’m going to dig up real dirt. I swear it.”

“Well, if it means that much to you… you’d better not let me down.”

Randall walks out the door and needs to go to the bathroom. He picks the lock for the faculty bathroom and hides inside. He’s hyperventilating within a minute, tears streaking down his face and muffling the sound in his hands. _I can’t afford another fuck up. I screwed up Saturday, and I need to get back at that bitch. But it can wait. I can’t let Finster down. Muriel has been there for me even though we can’t… damn it! Why is this my fucking life?_ Once he’s calmed down, Randall wipes away any trace of tears and seeks out some real dirt.

He heads out to the back lot just as the lunch bell rings. In the crowd, he successfully pickpockets two wallets. Inside, he finds a collective fifty dollars and ditches the wallets beside the doors. He finds a cluster of kids who regularly get detention – Skeens, Butch, Kurst, HK, Mundy, and Sue Bob. Skeens is spray painting a wall; Butch and Kurst are smoking pot bought off HK. Sue Bob nudges Mundy when she sees Randall snooping, and the latter confronts him.

“What do you want, Snitch?”

“I’m just here for HK.” He answers in a voice he hopes is confident.

The teen in question hears him and walks over. “And whattaya need me for? Gonna turn me in for some shit?”

“Quite the opposite,” He responds, holding out twenty of the fifty he found. “I need you to find some dirt, any dirt, on one bitch in particular.”

HK raises his eyebrows. “And who’s that?”

“Ashley A. She was a bitch to someone she went on a date with, and I need to get her back.”

“Going out for the common man, ‘eh? Alright, but it’ll cost more.”

Randall hands off another twenty. “It’s all I got.”

HK takes in the pleading teen in front of him and he nods. “What’s your number?”

“555-726-3255.”

Without thinking, he gives HK his personal number. The older teen texts him a picture, and Randall’s eyes widen.

“Is that?”

HK nods. “Do whatever you want with it.”

Randall grins evilly. He heads to the library, synching his phone to the school printers. His name doesn’t appear, so ‘Guest004’ prints out twenty pages, three pictures to a page. The following day, he feels like a new kid. Since he doesn’t have any morning classes with Spinelli or Ashley A, he’s forced to sit on his knowledge until lunch. He skips ahead of Spinelli, and she glowers at him.

“End of the line, Weems.”

“Now, now,” He tuts. “We wouldn’t want everyone knowing your little secret, would we?”

Not one for threats, she grabs the back of his shirt and begins to threaten him back – before he sneers and cuts her off.

“Wouldn’t want your boyfriend to catch you macking on some girl, would you? Especially a certain prissy bitch.”

She loosens her grip, laughing nervously. “You have no proof.”

“I have pictures.”

“Heh, sorry I messed up your shirt, there.”

She pats the wrinkles down, but Randall shoves her away. “Nice try, Spinelli, but it’s not gonna work.”

“Please, Randall.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He glares. “You’ve never done anything for me.”

“Name it.”

He picks at his nails, trying to see where her breaking point is. “My homework. Every night for the rest of this semester.”

“Agreed.”

“Refer to me as ‘Lord Randall’.”

Spinelli’s fists tighten, and she replies through grit teeth. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“Am I?”

Spinelli shoves him to the ground and pounces, ready for a fight. TJ and Vince quickly grab Spinelli’s arms, pulling her back. Randall is pissed. He knew she wouldn’t hold out long. In his anger, he shouts out a derogative slur.

“I’ll get you for this, you dyke!”

The crowd around them gasps. Spinelli’s eyes widen as she hears people talking.

“Don’t listen to him! He’s lying!”

“Yeah?” He growls. “Then explain this!”

He digs into his backpack and throws down several pictures of Spinelli in an intense make-out session with Ashley A. Students gather and grab the picture copies. Spinelli feels her world crumbling, and she can only stare blankly between TJ and Randall. The lattermost glares at her with some sort of smug grin.

After school, Spinelli meets up with her friends. TJ is acting wary; Mikey doesn’t see what the big deal is. Gretchen suggests she prove to the school that she strictly likes boys, while Vince counters that she makes it look like it. Meanwhile, Randall slips into the main office to hand in some files from Ms. Finster, and Menlo stops him.

“Randall, is it true? Did you find the picture of Ashley and Spinelli kissing and make the copies?”

“Yeah,” He answers easily after making sure no prying eyes are around.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “You’re pissed at Ashley A, I’m pissed at Spinelli, and they did something that garners chaos. Why wouldn’t I?”

Menlo blinks. “What did Spinelli do?”

“Broke my fucking recorder. Took me a month and a half to save up for that damn thing. She just grabbed my wrist and broke my recorder.”

“Sorry to hear.”

He waves him off. “It was just the tip of the iceberg. Spinelli’s been a thorn in my side for years. And Ashley was a bitch to you on your date. Ergo, I outed them.”

Menlo shudders. “I wouldn’t want to be outed like that.”

“So, are you queer?”

Menlo narrows his eyes. “You can’t just ask people that.”

“Whatever. I’m leaving.”

“Are you… queer?” Menlo asks, the last word in a whisper.

“Yeah, I’m under the umbrella.”

“You are?”

“Yes, I’m bisexual.”

“Oh. I’m… bi-curious. That’s not real, though. My mom says so.”

“Your mom’s wrong.” Randall replies instantly. “It’s as real any of the other labels. This thing with the Ashleys kissing will die out in about a week. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Menlo nods, grabbing his bag and chasing after his friend. “Wait up. Do you, are you… can we watch another movie at your house today?”

_I’m back in Muriel’s favor. Spinelli’s pissed. Ashleys are pissed._ “Sure. Let’s go.”

Spinelli’s at home watching wrestling when someone comes knocking on her door. She absently checks her phone for a message but gets off the couch and opens the door anyway.

“Ashley? What the hell are you doing here?”

Ashley A stands at her doorstep, twirling the loose ends on her hair.

“What do you say you join our clique?”

“What do you say I slam this door in your face?”

“Spinelli, please, help me here.” She almost begs. “I cannot afford to be exposed to Daddy.”

Spinelli hangs in her doorway. “Why would I help you?”

“Look, we’re just going to expose someone else. Your kiss with Detweiler did nothing to our kiss from that dopey sleepover.”

“Do you think if we explain that it was a middle school slee”

“No, you stupid girl. We’re going to grab that AV kid with the headphones and, like, force him into giving us what we want.”

Spinelli grabs her jacket and walks out, locking the door. “Which is what, exactly?”

“Like, duh, hack the school cameras.”

“Do you even know where he lives?”

Ashley grins and pulls out Menlo’s phone. She scrolls down the phone book to ‘Brock Scottsdale (AV)’. She shows it to Spinelli, and the other girl is shocked to find the full name, address, phone number, and email on file.

“How do you have so much info on your phone?”

The blonde shrugs, climbing into the backseat of her limo. “It’s not _my_ phone.”

Spinelli climbs in against her better judgment, and the limo starts up.

**|To: Brock Scottsdale (AV)**

**|From: Menlo**

_Pardon me, but could you send me a video link from this past week in the stairwells and the hallway areas surrounding the bathrooms?_

Ashley hands the phone to Spinelli. “Sound like the dork?”

Spinelli shrugs. “I barely know him, but yeah, I guess he’s polite. Didn’t know you could be.”

“It’s called _acting_ , Little Chimp.”

Ashley presses ‘send’, and a short yet uncomfortable fifteen minutes later, there’s a response.

**|To: Menlo**

**|From: Brock**

_So sweat, office dude. Wouldn’t want Lemon riding you_

**|To: Brock Scottsdale (AV)**

**|From: Menlo**

_Much obliged, Mister Scottsdale._

Spinelli quickly takes the phone to reply, handing back to Ashley when the video comes in.

“Where are we going, Ashley?”

“Like, the, dare I say it, community library. We’re going to find someone, and we’re like, totally, going to expose them. Like that weaselly rat exposed us.”

They spend a good hour searching but come up empty. The next two days after school go like this as well. Finally, on the afternoon of Friday the twenty-second, Ashley A and Spinelli have uncovered another hidden relationship at school.


End file.
